


Extended Family

by KivaTaliana



Series: Swings And Roundabouts [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 03:28:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1535960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KivaTaliana/pseuds/KivaTaliana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft finally gets around to introducing Greg and their son to his parents.  Following on from my story Complicated, and set during Episode Three of Series Three, 'His Last Vow'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The story is set later on, I will be backfilling the time period with other stories but as the ideas for later things are popping into my head I'm writing them now and setting up the storyline as a series. By this point Greg and Mycroft have a son, William Gregory Holmes, who is just over three years old, and was born a month after Sherlock's fall.

The moment Greg had opened his mouth he knew he was going to shout and he knew his son didn't deserve it. He watched little Will's face crumple, his lower lip wobbling and tears filling his eyes. As he gave a loud wail the tears started to spill. Greg watched as Will shifted his weight, hopping on one foot in the usual tell that he had wet himself.

He crossed over to pick the distressed little boy up, putting him on his hip and holding him as close as Will's rigid countenance would allow. He ran a hand up and down his back. 

"I'm sorry, daddy didn't mean to shout at you. I'm sorry." 

The apology appeared to be accepted as Will's arms wrapped around his neck, but he continued to sniffle into his chest in a heartfelt fashion. Greg felt awful. Will was excited about the prospect of Christmas away, although he probably didn't really comprehend it, he just knew something new was going on. It probably didn't help that Greg felt full to the brim with dread about meeting Mycroft's parents. 

He patted Will’s back as he gave a little hiccup and shifted him uncomfortably. 

“Come on, I think we need to change your pants.” 

Greg turned to take Will down the hall to the nursery, but he turned back as his phone started to ring. Will lifted his head slightly, his interest piqued by the potential of a phone call. Greg snatched up the phone and turned to take Will down the hallway. 

“Bee!” Will shouted, just as Greg answered the call. He winced and leant over slightly to allow Will’s pudgy hands to grab the large cuddly toy bee from the end of Greg's bed. 

“Hi John.” 

Will cuddled the toy, eyes fixed on Greg.

“Hi, how are you?” 

“Panicked. I’ve just yelled at Will for no reason, other than him being a hyperactive toddler two days before Christmas. I am dreading this trip tomorrow.” 

“You’ll be fine.” 

“Easy for you to say.” 

“I suppose,” John said in a non-commiting fashion. Greg frowned, still a little unsure what had gone on. Something had occurred between John and Mary, and Sherlock was involved somehow, and to do with his shooting. Mycroft knew something but was so far unforthcoming with any information. Greg had too much on his plate to really harass him for information. He carried Will into the nursery and slowly crouched down to deposit his son on the floor. Will tightened his grip on Greg’s neck. 

“Will, come on, I need to change your pants.” 

John sniggered. 

“Not funny, he only wet himself ‘cos I shouted at him. I shouldn’t take it out on him.” 

“No,” John agreed. 

“Please tell me you are arriving before us. I don't want to meet the parents without some backup.” 

“I should think so,” John said. “Sherlock keeps texting me. I think the fussing is getting to him. But I think you’re over thinking this. I know I only saw them briefly once, but they looked - they seemed - positively ordinary. Certainly not what I was expecting.” 

Greg considered that. “Mycroft looked positively traumatized after he took them to see Les Miserables.” 

“That’s because he hates musicals and people, not because he hates his parents.” 

Greg eventually managed to remove Will and tucking the phone between his ear and shoulder swiftly divested the little boy from his trousers and underpants. The moment he did Will giggled and ran off around the room. Greg dropped the phone as he made a grab for him. 

“Oi, get back here!” 

Will giggled again. 

“What are you doing?” John asked as Greg retrieved the phone. 

“Just catching my half naked son,” Greg said looping an arm around Will’s torso and hoisting him off the ground before pinning him down on his back to clean him up. “I’m going to put you on speaker phone.” 

“Fine.” John's voice echoed out of the phone. 

Greg put the phone where Will couldn’t reach it, but the little boy’s eyes fixed on the phone in interest. 

“Say hello to uncle John.” 

“Ello!” Will yelled in the phone’s direction. 

“Hello, Will. Tell daddy to stop worrying.” 

Will looked confused. “op ring,” he said to Greg. 

“Easy for you to say,” Greg informed John. “You’re not the omega chosen to continue their breeding line, someone they knew nothing about until recently. It’s a bit weird to think of Mycroft and Sherlock having parents. You could be forgiven for thinking they were grown in a lab somewhere.”

John laughed, quite genuinely. Greg stared at the phone, it was the first sound of real happiness he had heard from John in months. 

“How’s Mary doing?” 

“Fine,” John said shortly. Greg frowned. John did not sound like a man looking forward to having a baby with his new wife. The honeymoon period had faded away quickly. Greg wondered if he himself had ever had one. It was lost to distant memory if he had such a thing with his wife, and with Mycroft it had been a simple contracted arrangement. And over the last three years it had remained so. Mycroft hadn’t shown any inclination to move the contract on, despite the developments, Greg thought to himself as he wiped his son clean. He'd have to try and get him into the bath later. 

“What time are you setting off?” Greg asked heading the conversation towards safer ground, Will giggled again as Greg tickled him. 

“Early morning I should think. What about you?” 

"Mycroft has an early meeting then he's picking us up. I'm trying to get everything packed, and wrap presents... I might have to do that when Will's having a nap."

Will perked up at the mention of his name. Greg got him clean and then put him into a pair of pull-up nappy pants. Mycroft didn't approve of them but quite frankly Greg didn't want to spend the rest of the afternoon worrying about Will's toilet habits. As he let him go Will rolled over and started to get to his feet. Greg picked up the phone and switched it off speaker. 

"Just stop worrying," John said. "If nothing else, if his parents upset you, I get the feeling Mycroft will take your side." 

Greg ran his hand over his stomach in an unconscious gesture, when he realised what he was doing he stopped it, glancing at Will guiltily. The little boy, having an incomprehensible conversation with Bee, remained happily oblivious. 

"I hope so." 

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

He also wanted some answers about what sort of situation he was walking into when it came to John and Mary. As Will had a tendency to fall asleep in the car Greg decided that was the best moment. Fortunately the drive on Christmas Eve was no exception to Will's habits. Within fifteen minutes his head lolled and he was asleep in his car seat. Greg gave it another five minutes before raising the issue.

Half an hour later he rather wished he hadn't asked. 

"So what's John going to do?" 

"As far as I can deduce, nothing."

Greg turned and stared out of the window. 

"The information I have is by no means the full extent of the story. But I don’t believe anyone profits by me becoming any further involved." 

"Christ," Greg said and then turned to look back at Will, still fast asleep. His grip had relaxed on his cuddly toy, and it was slowly slipping down off his lap. Greg took it carefully and moved it so it was resting against the car seat, and still under Will's hand. Mycroft watched carefully. 

"However, I do not believe she is a danger to either you or Will." 

"I know that!" 

"You didn't look very sure of that a moment ago." 

Greg resettled himself in his own seat and looked at Mycroft. 

"I think my best indication of that is the fact that you are letting both of us, or rather all of us near her."

"I don't have any concerns about my own safety," Mycroft said. 

"Not the 'all' I was referring to. You can look after yourself."

"You did not make that sound particularly complementary." 

"I don't think I meant to." 

Greg said nothing for a moment before adding. “Do we mention… the new development?” 

"I hadn’t thought about it. We're almost there," Mycroft said as he turned towards a pretty looking cottage. 

"You know I hate you, right?" Greg informed him. 

"It is something I am occasionally aware of."


	2. Chapter 2

At least John and Mary’s car was already parked, so at least they had arrived. Greg felt a little better knowing there were other people, who were not of the Holmes bloodline, he knew there at the same time. What didn’t help were the two people he didn’t know appearing at the door, since they had no doubt been awaiting their arrival. Fortunately, Will did have a very reliable follow-up habit of waking up at the end of a journey, which he promptly did, and he started to wriggle in his seat to see where he was, and also attempt to escape. It gave Greg something to focus on as Will shouted for release.

“Daddy! _Daddy!_ Daddy! _Daddy!”_

It never ceased to amaze Greg that someone with such a limited, and often incomprehensible, vocabulary had developed the talent of managing to change the emphasis on one word to let them know which of his parents he was talking to at any one time. At the present time either parent could apparently be called upon as he alternated his tone.

“All right,” Greg said. “You can get the bags,” he informed Mycroft.

"Daddy! Daddy!" Will yelled as Greg opened the back door.

"All right, calm down." Greg fumbled to undo the catch of Will's car seat, realising his hands were shaking slightly and the palms felt sweaty. Will went still in anticipation of freedom, staring at Greg expectantly.

"Do you need assistance?" Mycroft asked.

"Mycroft!" his mother called.

"I'm fine," Greg snarled through gritted teeth finally managing the catch and he lifted Will out of the car, turning as he started to settle Will on his hip.

"Bee!" Will yelled. Greg rolled his eyes and gently placed Will next to him on the grass verge before turning back to reach into the car. Bee had slid onto the floor. Greg grabbed one of his legs and hoisted him out. Will's hands had latched to Greg's trousers, as he turned Will let go of them to hold his hands up for Bee. Greg dusted the toy off slightly before handing him over.

"There you go, don't drop him."

"As that toy is a bee," Mycroft said as Will clutched it, "it should logically be referred to as female."

"Could be a drone, and therefore male."

"I'd rather his toy represented something more useful, such as a worker."

"Mycroft, it's a glorified cushion," Greg snapped at him.

Mycroft didn't get chance to comment as his mother reached Mycroft and wrapped her arms around him. Mycroft reciprocated, slightly gingerly. He pulled back as swiftly as possible turning his attention to Greg.

"Mother, may I introduce Gregory Lestrade, my omega." Greg tried not to raise his eyebrows at the possessive tone, as far as Greg could tell there also seemed to be a trace of pride in there as well. Mycroft then looked down at Will, who had shuffled nearer to Greg.

"And my son."

Much to his surprise Greg found himself hugged, quite enthusiastically. She turned to address Mycroft.

"You are a naughty boy, you should have introduced him before." Greg caught the scent of omega on Mycroft's mother, before she pulled back and looked down at Will, who eyes, identical to Greg's, were fixed on the unfolding scene. Greg presumed it was so far, so good.

“And you must be William,” she said.

Will tilted his head, staring in fascination. In the end he decided an appropriate response was to hold up his cuddly toy. “Bee!” Will announced, his grandmother looked enamoured, reaching out to pat the bee’s head.

“He’s very handsome.”

Will beamed, which made his grandmother look even more enamoured. Greg knew he was probably slightly biased on the fact, but Will was a very cute kid.

“Come in. You’ve had a long journey,” she announced, drawing Greg along, he paused to reach for Will, lifting him up to carry him. Will viewed the scenery in interest, and Greg relaxed, ever so slightly.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

“Is this ever going to end? It’s been Christmas for weeks.”

“It’s two o’clock in the afternoon!” Greg informed Mycroft.

"Wait until Will is old enough to comprehend it properly, then you will have Christmas for weeks, literally." He had to smirk at Mycroft's expression of horror.

"And there's no getting out of it," Greg added for extra devilment.

“Greg would you like some punch,” Mrs Holmes asked, while trying not to laugh.

He blinked in surprise. Yesterday he had managed to avoid drinking without anyone really noticing, except Sherlock, who now looked up, eyes drifting from Greg to his mother. Will provided a distraction by running in with Bee. He had played with most of his new toys, then built a wall out of the boxes and finally returned to running around with his favourite toy. Greg decided Will was likely to sleep very well tonight.

He watched as the little boy trotted across the kitchen to position himself near Sherlock, who Will had always seemed to be fascinated by. Sherlock looked up, stared back for a moment and then went back to the paper.

“No, I’m fine thank you, Mrs Holmes,” Greg said.

Sherlock looked up again, eyes narrowing as deductions flickered through his mind. Will held Bee out towards Sherlock.

“Bee likes you,” Will said.

Sherlock lifted his gaze again. “Bee is an inanimate object, and therefore can neither like nor dislike, presumably you are using him as a proxy to inform me that it is actually you who likes me for some reason.” Sherlock went back to the paper, ignoring Greg’s scowl of disapproval. Will looked confused and turned to Greg. Before Greg could answer Mycroft’s voice announced.

“Sherlock likes Bee.”

Sherlock glowered at Mycroft. Mycroft shrugged and glanced at Greg.

"I do know how to appropriately answer my son when required. And understand what he means," he added to Sherlock.

"I'm sure you could have a little," Mrs Holmes insisted to Greg.

"No, I don't really, not since Will."

"Oh shush, there are plenty of us, you can have something. You could do with a break."

Sherlock watched as Greg looked over to Mycroft and gave him a 'help me or die' look. Clearly Mycroft had no desire to be smothered in his sleep as he turned to look up at his mother.

"Gregory can't drink. He had confirmation at the omega centre this week, he is carrying again."

He tried not to blush as she enthusiastically hugged him again.

"Well, that's wonderful! We should celebrate, but you can't." She patted Greg's arm.

"Feel free to do so for me."

She smiled and then turned her attention to Mycroft.

"I hope you have sorted the contract properly."

"Yes, Mother."

"You wouldn't want to make a mistake. You wouldn't want to lose him."

"No, Mother." Greg blinked, Mycroft sounded as if he really meant that, although he seemed to be avoiding looking at Greg.

"Is that your laptop?" his mother suddenly demanded of Mycroft. Greg saw an opportunity to escape as he watched Will hop from foot to foot.

"Come on you, toilet." Getting up he gathered Will up and hoisted him upstairs to the bathroom before the conversation could become any more disturbing, and revealing.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

"Are you smoking?" Both of them whipped round to stare at their mother.

Then a window above opened.

"That's what I was just about to ask," Greg said as he put his head out of the window, resting his hands on the sill, he looked down and smiled at Mrs Holmes, who grinned at him and then disappeared back into the house. Greg glowered at Mycroft.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing!" Both of them answered hands still behind their backs. Greg's narrowed eyes hinted that he didn't believe that. He glared at Sherlock.

"I'm not talking to you, you can do what you like. I'm asking him." He nodded at Mycroft.

"How long have you been looking out of the window?" Mycroft asked.

"Long enough!"

Mycroft looked martyred but stopped hiding the cigarette he was holding.

"I don't want you coming anywhere near Will smelling of smoke, or me for that matter," Greg announced before retreating back and shutting the window.

Mycroft looked at the cigarette without enthusiasm. He dropped it onto the pathway and ground it with his foot.

"I'm going in." Mycroft glared at Sherlock as he started to chuckle.

"Brother dear, I believe you have become very fond of your omega."

"It's in my interests to keep him content, nothing more." Sherlock smirked, looking unconvinced, and smug, much to Mycroft's irritation.

"First losing me would break your heart, and now Lestrade is wrapping you around his little finger."

"There must be something in punch."

"Yes, have some more," Sherlock advised as Mycroft stormed back into the house.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is actually the fluffy story. What I am going to do to follow this one is angsty.

Upstairs in the bedroom he was sharing with Mycroft Greg overheard the last of their conversation in the garden. He knew he shouldn't have been eavesdropping but he couldn't help it, and he couldn't help the odd, warm glow when Sherlock had mused that Mycroft was fond of him. 

Greg really wouldn't have thought their relationship was close, or even amicable. At the beginning it had been a mere arrangement, with Greg essentially backed into a corner. Mycroft had certainly been fair with the contract, and they hadn't changed it regarding the second child. It would be four years from the birth of this baby that Greg would have to think about the longer term, unless of course he carried again. Or, by that point, would Mycroft change it, to permanently secure Greg with regard to raising their children? Maybe Mycroft even wanted him to stay and for reasons beyond children. 

He folded a few items on the bed, looking up as he heard footsteps, then Mycroft opened the door. Greg realised he must have come straight up to see him. He hesitated in the doorway before pulling himself together and stepping into the room, closing the door behind him. He cradled the mug he was holding in his hands. 

"What's the matter?" Greg asked depositing the folded items into the nearby chest of drawers. 

"I came to apologise. I could blame Sherlock for that slight lapse..."

"Except that you are a grown up and can decide what you are doing for yourself."

"You smoke." 

"Used to," Greg corrected. "I stopped when we started our contract."

"So did I, when you were carrying Will."

"Very noble of you," Greg said without rancour. "But you said at the time you didn't want to end up starting again."

"I know, you've stopped me three times. I brought you a coffee, with milk and sugar." Mycroft held out the mug, which was, quite obviously, a peace offering. 

Greg slowly shut the drawer. It was probably to do with the way Mycroft's mind worked which meant he remembered things. When he had carried Will Greg had changed from black coffee to wanting it with milk and sugar. Turning and stepping around the cluttered room he went to take the mug from Mycroft. He gave a very careful sniff, he had been finding a few things unappetising recently, he hoped coffee wasn't one of them. 

After a pause, and finding that his stomach stayed still, Greg took a careful sip. 

"That's good, thank you." 

Mycroft looked relieved. "I know your tastes altered, when you were carrying Will. You changed to decaf in the latter months." 

"Only if I wanted more than two cups, at which point he started kicking."

"Of course," Mycroft said, sounding as if he was confirming facts to be remembered later. Greg frowned as he watched Mycroft's eyes close and he swayed on his feet. Mycroft's eyes snapped open sharply.

"Are you all right?" 

"Fine," Mycroft said, his eyes drifting closed again. Greg put the coffee cup down on the nearest surface and reached out to grab Mycroft's arms as he wavered again. His eyes snapped open, looking startled at Greg's sudden close proximity.

"What's the matter?" Greg asked. Mycroft frowned, eyes losing focus as he tried to work out what was happening. Greg braced himself and stepped closer, brushing against Mycroft as he wavered again. The sudden close contact brought Mycroft back to himself and he tried to pull back. Greg knew Mycroft had always been careful when it came to physical contact. It baffled Greg slightly, Mycroft certainly didn't behave like an alpha with a willing omega. Greg assumed that Mycroft thought him unwilling, unless his heat dictated otherwise. Over the years he wondered if Mycroft could make any deductions about their relationship at all, or maybe he had, and simply didn't want to take it further. 

Greg knew full well that if he instigated it, anything beyond the contract, Mycroft would likely acquiesce, because it was what Greg wanted, and Mycroft did insist he wanted to keep Greg content. It was what held Greg back, and therefore Mycroft didn't act; so even if he had any inclination he wouldn't act on it. That was probably what made their relationship so hard at times, and oddly, smooth and easy to handle for the most part. 

This time Greg didn't let Mycroft back away, he got the feeling he'd end up on the floor if Greg didn't help. 

"Mycroft?" 

"I appear to have ingested too much punch," Mycroft announced, his voice slurring slightly. Greg's frown deepened. 

"You haven't had that much," he snapped. Very carefully he drew Mycroft across the room towards the bed, and not a moment too soon it seemed. When he was a step or so from it Mycroft's weight hit Greg. He stumbled back, almost falling onto the bed, which was when Mycroft blinked and forced himself to stay steady a few seconds longer. He had no desire to crash down on top of Greg. It was probably excessive caution, but his omega was in the early stages, and it paid to be careful.

Guessing what he was doing, Greg shifted slightly to get out of Mycroft's way and sit him down on the end of the bed. The frame creaked as Mycroft slumped onto it, and his head dropped before snapping up again. 

"Mycroft?" Greg asked, starting to feel extremely concerned. He had never known the alpha to drink heavily, being such a control freak even losing mild control of himself would be something Mycroft would not want. There was no way that he would have drunk enough punch to start falling over. 

"It would appear something is wrong."

"That's helpful," Greg told him laying him down as Mycroft slumped further. He shoved him up the bed a bit, trying to get him comfortable. Mycroft tried to get up again, and got as far as getting onto his hands and knees on the bed before crashing onto his side, again. Greg looked him over, but he couldn't really see anything really wrong, apart from the passing out part and Mycroft had now gone the whole hog, falling asleep. 

Greg wasn’t sure what else he could do except shift Mycroft into a better position, ensuring he was breathing comfortably and that his pulse seemed steady enough. 

“I’ll find John.” 

Getting the nearest doctor seemed the most logical step in the process. He left Mycroft sleeping and hurried downstairs heading into the kitchen. He halted in shock. Mycroft’s parents were still in there, his mother at the table and his father in the chair that Sherlock had been sat in earlier. Will stood in the kitchen, sniggering into Bee's wings every time his grandfather snored. Greg looked at the sleeping pair in shock. 

“What’s…?” Greg started and then stopped as he heard decisive steps behind him. He stepped sideways as Sherlock brushed past him. 

“What’s going on?” 

At Greg’s sharp tone Will stopped giggling and turned to watch. 

“Mary’s in the sitting room,” Sherlock said as he slid the laptop out from under the piles of stuff on the table. “Can you look after them all? They should wake in a little while.” 

Sherlock tucked the laptop under his arm and brushed back past Greg. He jerked to a halt as Greg grabbed his upper arm and hauled him back.

“What the hell are you doing? That’s Mycroft's!” 

Sherlock looked rather startled, but he tensed his body to pull himself from Greg’s grip. Greg turned to look at John as he came out from the sitting room, where he had left Mary. Greg glanced at him and then back to Sherlock. 

“He’s awake,” John accused. 

“I need someone to watch the others, plus I realised a few days ago he was carrying again,” Sherlock said flatly, finally extracting himself from Greg's grip. 

“Oh, but it’s fine to drug my pregnant wife!” 

Sherlock looked at John. “Her pregnancy is in a later stage, she is smaller than Graham…” 

“Greg!” Greg corrected automatically. Sherlock carried on talking as if the interruption hadn’t happened. 

“… so the dosage would be less. Besides in that situation I would also have to drug William.” 

The little boy had followed them, he now stood in the doorway of the kitchen, clutching Bee and watching them curiously. 

“And I would kill you,” Greg growled dangerously.

"That was also a consideration, but it was not something I was keen to do, therefore, as someone had to stay awake, it made you the logical choice." 

"What are you doing Sherlock?" 

"Something that needs to be done. John." 

Sherlock turned and left the cottage, after quick glance at the doorway of the sitting room and then diverting his gaze to Greg John followed Sherlock. Greg turned to Will, who shuffled closer to his father. Greg picked him up and carried him to the doorway, following the two men out. He watched as the small blur in the sky moved closer and the helicopter landed in a nearby field. 

"Sherlock!" Greg roared. Sherlock glanced back, John didn't. Greg started to walk down the path but both of them had clambered into the helicopter and it started to lift into the air, leaving Greg standing there, not comprehending what had just happened. 

His mind decided to present facts to him. Mary was a factor in this, otherwise John would not walk into the situation so easily. He would often do for Sherlock but he would have some limits. This situation seemed to have none. And Sherlock had Mycroft's laptop. The information itself was not that inflammatory, if you took the facts individually, but so much could be made of what Mycroft worked on. Out of his hands the damn thing was little short of factual napalm.

Sherlock was, no doubt, doing what he thought was best and he probably had a well orchestrated plan. The only problem was that Greg now sat in the middle of it. He trusted Sherlock, to a point, he would do what was right, or his version of right, and John helped him with that. The only problem was, this time, John's dilemma laid in the thick of it. 

"Daddy!" Will pointed Bee at the sky, making helicopter noises. 

"Yes, quite," Greg said. He could leave this, he was nothing to do with this. Sherlock had a plan but again thoughts of Mycroft's laptop out of his hands made Greg worry. He didn't know the contents, he didn't entirely understand what Mycroft did, but his influence meant that what Mycroft did know, what Mycroft did, was important, important enough that he could override the law, pull in suspect favours, and control whole networks without answering to anyone. Greg knew enough, he had seen Mycroft working, he hoped he understood something of the man he had tied himself to. 

Now he wondered, and didn't just have to wonder, he had to decide. Exactly where did his loyalties lie?

He didn't think it took him longer than a second. Turning on his heel he took Will back into the house, to check on some of the sleeping occupants.

"Come on, you. We need to wake daddy."


	4. Chapter 4

Despite the fact that Greg didn't feel in the mood, he knew Will liked the days they sat and watched football. It was the same day that Sherlock was leaving and Mycroft had unequivocally said that Will and Greg were not to see him off. They had seen Sherlock the day before, and nothing of Sherlock's six month absence had been mentioned. Greg felt guilty, he had woken Mycroft and he had called in help to curtail Sherlock's actions. And Sherlock had killed someone as a result. Donovan had always said to Greg that one day Sherlock would have caused the body at his feet, and she had been proved right, not that she knew it. Magnusson's death had been carefully covered up, no one was in the frame for it.

So, as far as people were concerned, Sherlock had simply taken a job for MI6, one that Mycroft hadn't wanted him to take. 

Still, that didn't change Will's life, or routine. He liked to sit with Greg while he watched football. For a few months Greg had drunk the odd beer to mark the occasion, and while Mycroft seemed disapproving of it, he said nothing. Will had his own special cup for those days, to hold his juice while he sat with Greg, cheering when Greg did, and looking despondent when the team failed. Although Greg was beginning to realise that Will had, over the last few months, actually started to understand what he was watching. So he was loathe to refuse his son, expecting them to do their usual routine. 

This time Greg had opened the fridge to find six bottles of non-alcoholic beer, which he could have ignored in protest. They appeared to defeat the object of having beer in the first place. Or he could have ignored them out of spite, but nothing of the current situation was entirely Mycroft's fault and as tactless, or ridiculous, as Mycroft's gestures were, they were still there, as offers of peace or attempts at understanding things, human things. 

Greg couldn't drink, he was carrying, therefore, in Mycroft's mind, non-alcoholic beer was a logical conclusion. If Greg couldn't drink, he'd rather not bother pretending especially since he would have liked to blot out the world. He couldn't. He certainly couldn't blot out the three year old, extremely demanding, part of his world. Will sat next to him on the sofa, drinking out of his special mug, which Greg had bought to distract him from the beer bottles, and Will would only drink from during football. He beamed up at his father while they waited for the second half to start.

They watched the action on the screen, Will bobbing excitedly on the sofa, snuggling himself against Greg's side. Reaching over Greg looped an arm around his shoulders to let him cuddle closer and then he frowned. The picture slowly started to fade, disappearing under a haze, fading out in a rather peculiar way, another image appearing to ghost underneath the football players. 

Greg frowned. He lifted his arm from around Will and reached for the remote control. His first thought was to determine if the satellite feed from the match was having problems, or was his own connection. He was about to flip to another channel when the screen cleared. His eyes widened and he tensed as the familiar face appeared. By sheer reflex he changed the channel, but the screen stayed the same. He carried on pressing and it stayed where it was. Greg fumbled for the off switch and the screen went black, although for a moment, his mind seemed to tell him that even that wouldn't get rid of Moriarty's image. Thankfully though, after he blinked a few times, he just saw his own reflection in the dark screen. 

"Daddy!" Will pointed at the screen, his little face a picture of confusion. 

"It's not on any more, Will. They had to stop..." 

"Oot All," Will announced insistently. Greg reached out and picked him up, carrying him out of the living room. Will started to whine and Greg paused, looking around the house. Aside from Will he was on his own, and it occurred to him it might be just his television receiving the signal, which was not good. The thought of Moriarty outside the house made him cringe, his stomach clenched, a cold feeling settling deep down within him. It wasn't logical, for a start Moriarty was dead, but then again that had been thought of Sherlock. And Greg had been one of those under threat. He took a deep breath to calm himself. 

Still that did not shift his feeling of vulnerability. He was out on his own. Mycroft was with Sherlock and no doubt John and Mary were there. Greg wondered if Sherlock's plane had left already. Carrying a whining, wriggling Will out to the kitchen Greg grabbed his mobile. Within seconds he realised Mycroft's phone was engaged, and if he had picked up the hint that he had a call waiting, Mycroft was ignoring it. 

"You shit!" he snapped at the phone, the venomous epitaph caused Will to stop struggling. Greg hugged him tighter and Will, sensing the tension clung on. Looking at the phone in helpless anxiety Greg pondered, he didn't want to check the other television, or even turn on the radio, just in case. But the view from the kitchen didn't appear to hold a psychotic criminal at the moment so he supposed he could be safe enough. After a quick debate, he went for another number. 

"John what the hell is going on?" 

"Sherlock's just left... on the plane." 

"Is Mycroft still there?" 

"In his car, he had a call." 

That eased Greg slightly. "Go and have a look at the screen in the back." 

Beyond John's voice Greg could hear steps and a slight rush of wind that signalled that John was doing exactly as requested. He could also hear Mary's voice asking what was wrong. Greg frowned, quite irrationally wondering why the bloody hell she got to wave Sherlock off and Greg was left at home. Mycroft would have probably argued he didn't want Will there, as he was too young to really comprehend what was going on, but Greg did rather feel he was on the outskirts of the whole thing, which seemed unfair. He stopped his inner moaning as he heard John open the car door, and he heard two voices. Mycroft's cut off and Moriarty's continued to repeat itself. 

"Bloody hell!" John said. 

"Count yourself lucky, I got it in widescreen," Greg snapped, thankful it wasn't just him. 

John gave something of a snort of laughter. "It's Greg." 

"Tell him not to ignore me on the call waiting!" Greg said. 

John obligingly repeated that. 

"Are he and Will all right?" 

"Tell him we're fine," Greg said, he knew he shouldn't say the next bit to John but he was an omega, with a child, a foetus and a ridiculous amount of hormones. "And tell him he's a git!" 

"Would you please not insult me, and I hope William can't hear you." 

Will had stopped wriggling and was staring up at Greg with wide eyes. 

"Yes, he can, and it's your fault, I'm not leaving him anywhere on his own."

Mycroft digested that. "I'm ordering a car, with extra security, to pick you up, and it will bring you to Baker Street, it is probably the best place for us to convene. I do need to now make another phone call, rather urgently," Mycroft said. 

"I suppose you do." 

"It seems wise to retrieve Sherlock."

"Oh." That sounded logical. "Okay, I'll presumably see you soon." Something which made Greg feel absurdly better. Then he paused and thought about it. "When did he leave?" 

"His plane took off several minutes ago." 

"Interesting timing," Greg said. "Someone doesn't want him leaving the country." 

"Are you suggesting that this is some elaborate plan to keep Sherlock in England? And if you are, don't insinuate me." 

"I didn't say anything of the sort, that's you making your own conclusions." 

"Is not, however, a completely ludicrous conclusion. At least the timing part of it. The car will be with you within twenty minutes. Please pack what William may need and be ready." 

"You're worried." 

"Perhaps. I also wish for you to provide your opinion to this debate. You dealt with Moriarty just as much as the rest of us."

"Okay." 

Greg hung up, he was still carrying Will; a silent, concerned looking Will. 

"It's all right," Greg said. "We're going to go and see Daddy, and Uncle Sherlock and Uncle John." 

Will pouted and pointed to the small television in the corner of the kitchen.

"Daddy?" 

Greg winced and rubbed his hand up and down Will's back, carrying him away from the television. 

"Not now, Will. Let's get your stuff ready."

"Bee!" 

"And Bee." 

He put Will in the nursery while he headed for his own room. There was only one item of his own he really wanted. He pulled out the gun from it's safe location, loaded it and tucked it into the back of his waistband. His hand ran over his navel, listening to his son giggling in the next room. 

Greg said the next bit to himself, the ominous stirring continuing in his stomach. "We're playing a different game now." 

He just hoped Sherlock could win.


End file.
